Four
1585 Words
( Ava's POV )
The morning after never felt clean.
Ava stood at the kitchen sink, the old farmhouse quiet except for the steady drip of the faucet and the occasional groan of the pipes. She wrapped her hands around a chipped mug, letting the warmth of the coffee seep into her palms like it could ground her. It didn’t. Nothing could ground her after last night.
She hadn’t meant to end up in his arms again. She’d sworn she wouldn’t. She’d whispered to herself in the dark that she’d walk away before anything burned. But Brian had looked at her like that again, like wanting her was a crime he’d already committed and couldn’t take back.
And she’d let him.
Her lips still ached from his kisses. Her neck still held the ghost of his breath. Every inch of her skin still hummed, alive in ways she didn’t want to admit.
“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath.
The clock on the wall read 8:12 a.m. The light filtering through the kitchen window was pale and thin, dust motes swirling lazily in the air. She was supposed to be heading into town. Instead, she was hiding, hoping she wouldn’t run into him.
But of course, the sound of boots on the back porch shattered that hope.
Her fingers tightened around the mug. She knew that sound. The steady, measured weight of it. The same footsteps that had stopped outside her door last night.
The door creaked open.
“Morning,” Brian said.
His voice wasn’t soft this time. It was careful. Too careful. The kind of careful that came from trying not to touch something fragile and already cracked.
She didn’t turn around. “Morning.”
He stepped inside. She could feel his presence before she heard it, the way the air seemed to shift around him. He was wearing that worn gray T-shirt that clung to his chest, and his hair was still damp from a shower. He smelled like soap and smoke and the woods outside.
It wasn’t fair how much she noticed.
He moved to the counter, setting down a set of keys. The jingle echoed in the quiet. “You’re up early.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
He let out a low sound that might’ve been a laugh or a sigh. “Yeah. Me neither.”
She finally turned to face him. His eyes found hers immediately, and for a second, one dangerous second, the room felt too small. His jaw was tight, hands braced on the counter like he needed something solid to hold on to.
“About last night,” he began.
Her stomach knotted. “Don’t.”
His brows furrowed. “Ava...”
She shook her head. “Don’t ruin it by pretending it didn’t happen.”
He exhaled slowly. “I’m not pretending. But we both know...”
“That it’s wrong?” she snapped, the words cutting sharper than she intended. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.”
Silence pressed in between them. The kitchen light carved shadows across his face, and she could see the war flickering in his eyes, the same war that kept her up all night.
“This isn’t simple,” he said quietly.
“It never is,” she whispered back.
Brian dragged a hand through his hair, the muscles in his forearm flexing. “I shouldn’t have...”
“Then why did you?” she interrupted. “Why keep pulling me back if you’re so sure we shouldn’t?”
His lips parted like he had an answer. He didn’t.
She set the mug down a little too hard. The sound cracked through the stillness. “You don’t get to keep kissing me and then acting like you’re doing me a favor by regretting it.”
“I’m not...” He stopped himself, jaw tightening. “You think this is easy for me?”
She laughed softly, bitter. “No. I think you’re a coward.”
The words hung in the air, electric and raw.
He stepped toward her before he could stop himself, closing the space between them like gravity had made the choice for him. “Careful, Ava.”
“Why?” she whispered. “Afraid the truth will hurt?”
His breath hitched. He was close enough now that she could feel the heat of him, smell the soap still clinging to his skin. His hand twitched at his side like it wanted to reach for her again.
“You make everything feel impossible,” he said, voice low.
Her throat tightened. “Or maybe I make it real.”
His eyes darkened, just like they had last night, and for a heartbeat she thought he’d give in again. But instead, he forced a step back, shoving a wall between them that neither of them truly believed in.
“You should go,” he said.
“Where?”
“Anywhere but here.”
She stared at him, something twisting in her chest. “You’re the one who can’t stay away. Don’t make me the villain for showing up.”
He didn’t answer. He just turned away, bracing both hands against the edge of the counter like he was holding himself together by a thread. She watched his shoulders rise and fall with each unsteady breath.
“Brian,” she said softly.
He didn’t turn around.
“You can keep telling yourself it’s wrong,” she continued, “but we both know that isn’t going to stop it.”
That made him still.
“I can’t do this,” he muttered.
“You already are.”
She left before he could say anything else. If she stayed, she’d either kiss him again or break him in half. Maybe both. And she didn’t trust herself not to choose the first.
The woods behind the house were thick with early morning mist. Ava walked fast, letting the cold air bite at her cheeks, hoping it would clear her head. It didn’t. Nothing could untangle the mess she and Brian had made.
She ended up at the lake without thinking. The water stretched out before her, still and gray, reflecting the clouds above like a mirror. This was where it had started. One look. One night. One line crossed.
And now there was no going back.
She sank down onto the damp grass, pulling her knees to her chest. She hated how much she wanted him. How much the thought of his hands on her made her forget the rules she’d set. It wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to be this to her.
The wind rippled across the water, and for a while, she just sat there in silence.
“Thought I’d find you here.”
She stiffened. His voice.
You again!
Brian stood a few feet behind her, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. He hadn’t followed her right away, she could tell. He’d tried to stay away. He’d failed.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she said without turning around.
He huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah. You said that last night, too.”
She turned then, eyes finding his. He looked tired. Not just the kind of tired that came from sleepless nights, but from fighting something he didn’t know how to win.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
He hesitated. “Because I can’t not be.”
She let out a shaky breath. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I’ve got.”
He came closer, the damp grass crunching softly beneath his boots. The wind lifted a strand of her hair, and for some reason, that tiny movement made her chest ache.
“I keep telling myself to stay away,” he said quietly. “But the second I hear your footsteps, or your voice, or even your goddamn laugh, I lose it..”
Her heart stuttered. “And what happens when losing costs everything?”
He knelt down in front of her then, their faces almost level. The air between them was cold, but his presence burned. “Then I’ll deal with it.”
“Brian! ”
He reached out, fingers brushing the side of her face. She didn’t flinch. She leaned in. Because the truth was, she was losing too.
“You scare the hell out of me,” he whispered.
“Good,” she whispered back. “You should be scared.”
For a long moment, neither of them moved. His thumb traced the line of her jaw, slow and steady, like he was memorizing the shape of something he knew he shouldn’t touch.
Then he kissed her.
It wasn’t desperate like last night. It was slow. Dangerous in a different way. A promise whispered against her mouth. Her hands slid up his chest, gripping his jacket as his lips moved against hers, warm and sure. Every part of her that had been frozen since dawn came alive.
She broke the kiss first, breathless. “This is going to destroy us.” You can't let her find out!
He pressed his forehead to hers. “Then let it.”
The wind howled softly around them, carrying away the sound of their unspoken fears. Neither of them said the words that hung between them. Not yet. Not when it was easier to give in than to let go.
Because some fires don’t burn out when you walk away.
They follow you.
And this one has them both seating right on the edge.
- Writer
